A Different Path
by Allicat9
Summary: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood...What would have happened if somethings had happened a little differently. Not so much AU as a What IF? PLEASE REVIEW
1. A Slightly Different Beginning

Two Roads Diverged in a yellow wood…

Chapter One-A Slightly Different Beginning….

Ms. Petunia Dursley, of Apartment 2B North Hampton Square, was, in the opinion her neighbors, a very silly woman. She was always running around the community yard across from her flat, engaged in some nonsense or another with her son and nephew.

If there was a Mr. Dursley, the neighbors had never seen him. The rumor among the biddies of the neighborhood was that Ms. Dursley was _divorced_; one of the old gossips lived in the apartment below Ms. Dursley and her two charges and said she could have sworn that she saw Ms. Dursley receiving checks every month. Everyone agreed that Ms. Dursley's marital status (or lack thereof) was quite the scandal, and duly proceeded to gossip about her every chance they had.

Ms. Dursley was not the only topic of gossip regarding the occupants of Apartment 2B. In recent months, some talk had arisen about Ms. Dursley's nephew, a thin, dark haired boy named Harry Potter.

Harry Potter was small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's. The rumor was that Ms. Dursley, who held a job as a receptionist at a local dentist's office, could not afford brand new clothes for both children. Dudley had always been taller than Harry and so, for practicality's sake, Harry wore the clothes that Dudley grew out of.

He looked nothing like his aunt or cousin. While both Ms. Dursley and Dudley were rather tall with light blonde hair and blue eyes, Harry had a thin face, black hair, and large, bright green eyes that seemed to dance with mirth whenever anyone saw him. His appearance was made particularly peculiar by the round glasses that constantly framed those green eyes, as they were held together with a lot of Scotch tape because Ms. Dursley could not afford to replace them after he had fallen nearly six months before. The boy also had a faded, oddly shaped scar on his forehead that he proudly showed to anyone who asked about it.

"I got it when my parents died." He would say, pride echoing in his voice as he lifted his thick bangs out of the way for the inquirer to better see the odd little scar.

"What happened to them?" the inquirer would often ask, but Harry would only smile rather strangely and run off to play.

The child had lived with Ms. Dursley and her son Dudley for as long as anyone could remember. The building manager, who had worked at the North Hampton Square apartments for twenty years, said that he thought that Harry Potter had lived with Ms. Dursley since he was a very small baby. He said that a very harried Ms. Dursley had arrived at the North Hampton Flats nearly eleven years ago pushing two prams. One had held a blonde, rolly polly sort of baby, the other a very small quiet waif with large green eyes.

"I've never seen a woman look more exhausted before or since." He would chuckle, when asked about the strange little family on the second floor, "When I asked about the children, Ms. Dursley said that the blonde baby was her son Dudley, and that she had taken in the littler baby, that her was her sister's child. When I asked after her sister, Ms. Dursley said that her sister and brother-in-law had recently been killed in a car accident and that she was all the child had in the world."

And so, Harry Potter's presence was explained. His parents had died in a rather terrible car accident, leaving his poor, overburdened, scandalously divorced aunt to care for him.

Not only was the boy overburdening his aunt with his mere presence, but strange things often happened around Harry that simply could not be explained.

Once, a boy that had been teasing Dudley at school had been found stuck in a basketball hoop. None of the children could come up with an explanation for just how he had managed to get himself up there.

"He just suddenly _was_." One little girl claimed.

Despite the boy's insistence that Harry Potter had done it, the school administrators just could not imagine a scenario where little Harry Potter could throw another boy, twice his height, into a basketball hoop. It just wasn't possible.

Another time, Mr. Clayton down at the barber shop, claimed that Harry Potter had come into the barber shop three times in a week. Each time, the befuddled barber claimed, it looked as though his hair had not been cut at all.

Everyone who knew Harry Potter agreed he was quite odd. Strangely, Ms. Dursley didn't seem to mind.

You see, unlike her neighbors, Petunia Dursley was well aware of the cause of her nephew's strangeness, and, as his eleventh birthday approached, she found herself becoming more and more nervous.

Harry Potter was a wizard, a fact both her nephew and son were very well aware of. She had told them both when Harry turned five and turned all of his and Dudley's shirts red (Harry's favorite color). Petunia had explained that Harry's mother Lily (her sister) and his father, James, had been magical and that Harry was probably magical too.

Over the years she had fielded many questions from both Harry and Dudley. Was that why Harry could do all those strange things? Yes. Did his parents love him? Very much. Would Harry have to go away and live with magical people? No.

Petunia tried to answer the questions her nephew had for her as quickly and honestly as she could. She didn't want him to feel unprepared for the new world and the doubtless fame that lay ahead of him. She told him as much as her sister told her about the magical school of Hogwarts and explained that when he was eleven, he would receive a letter that would inform him that he had a place there.

Harry seemed excited about his magic at first, but over the years it had become something that he was used to, a part of him. He couldn't always control it, and Petunia didn't expect him to, but she did explain that magic outside of the wizarding would could cause problems. Her nephew became even more cautious after that. The majority of Harry's questions concerned his parents. What they were like, what they thought, what they did.

"Aunt Petunia," Harry would say, "What was my mother's laugh like?" and Petunia would try to mimic the sheer joy that Lily always had in her laugh.

"Aunt Petunia, what did my mother like best about being a witch?" and Petunia would answer.

She told Harry everything about her younger sister, strived to remember every detail that was Lily Evans. Every memory she had repressed, every song her sister sang, every annoying observation Lily had every made, Petunia tried to relate to Harry. She told him everything that she knew about James Potter, which she was sad to say, was not much.

She only had the one picture of the two of them, Lily's wedding photograph that their mother had sent to Petunia. The photograph moved, which Harry found fascinating, and she let him keep it under his pillow. She had no pictures of James Potter, but she covered the walls of their tiny apartment with photographs of Lily and her family from years ago. Petunia wanted Harry to know his mother, even if it was only though her own memories.

She had made many mistakes, and now that her sister was gone, caring for her son was the least that Petunia owed her baby sister.

It wasn't that much of a burden. Harry was easy to love. He was kind, smart, and very brave. He protected Dudley (who was a little shy still) and gave her son the confidence boost he needed. Harry was a gift to her, and she would not waste it being bitter about arguments long since over.

The night before Harry's eleventh birthday was a special one. Petunia prepared Harry's favorite cake (chocolate) and the three of them had a wonderful little party.

"But Aunt Petunia, today's not my birthday!" Harry exclaimed when she handed him her gift.

"We're celebrating one day early dear." She said, "I expect you'll be too excited tomorrow to have a party with us."

Harry rolled his eyes (he could never be too excited to eat cake!) and opened his present. There, in the package was a very warm looking fuzzy sweater, the exact shade of green his eyes were.

He smiled up at his aunt, "Thank you!"

"You're welcome darling." Petunia leaned over and gave him a peck on the forehead.

"I picked it out." Dudley said, smiling shyly.

"Thanks Dudley!" Harry beamed at his cousin, "I love it!" To prove it, he pulled the sweater over his head and wore it for the rest of dinner.

That night, many hours later, a breeze ruffled the untidy hedges in front of the flat, and in the air, one could sense that something astonishing was about to happen. In apartment 2B, Harry Potter could not sleep.

"Do you think it's real Dudley?" he asked his cousin, who was laying, equally awake just feet away.

"Dunno Harry." Dudley said, "I hope it's not."

"Why would you say that!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up suddenly in order to glare at his cousin, "Don't you want me to go to school? To learn to be a wizard?"

Dudley shrugged, still lying in bed down, "Not really."

"Why not?" Harry asked, becoming increasingly cross with his cousin.

"I don't want you to leave." Dudley said simply.

It was a testament to Harry's generous heart that he quashed his excitement and climbed into bed next to his cousin.

"You'll always be my best friend Dudley." Harry whispered, pulling his cousin into an awkward half hug, "I'll never forget you."

Outside of their door, Petunia Dursley smiled a little sadly and headed off to her bed.


	2. Friends, Old and New

Harry's last month with his aunt and cousin was fun. True, Dudley was now so quiet that it was almost as if he wasn't there, while Aunt Petunia fussed over him almost constantly, but, Harry thought it could have been worse.

They seemed to almost never be at home in those last, golden days of summer. Years later, Harry would reflect on those days of innocence and would marvel at how much brighter the world had seemed then, running around the park with his aunt and cousin, where it seemed no darkness could touch them.

There was only one member of the little family that did not seem to enjoy running around the park or swimming in the community pool; Harry's new cat, Fidelius. It had been strongly suggested by Harry's Hogwarts letter that he bring an animal to school (cat, toad, or owl). Harry had innocently pointed out that fact when Aunt Petunia had gone to purchase Harry's school books (she wouldn't let him go with her-something about drawing attention). Aunt Petunia absolutely refused to purchase an owl or a toad (too messy) but had acquiesced to purchasing the little black cat.

The cat, it was discovered, was a fiercely independent creature, and seemed to go wherever he pleased whenever he wanted to. Aunt Petunia had positively fallen for the arrogant creature and had named him Fidelius, because, she said, it was a magical word she had heard Harry's mother use.

But no matter how enjoyable his day had been, every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.

The morning of September 1st, Harry woke at five o'clock in the morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to walk into the station in his newly purchased wizard's robes- he'd wanted to, but Aunt Petunia had pointed out that such apparel would draw attention. He all but flew into the kitchen, only to discover his aunt already busy preparing breakfast in front of the stove.

"Good morning darling." She smiled before kissing him on the forehead and setting a very full plate of eggs, fruit, and toast in front of him. As Harry dug into his hardy breakfast, he got the feeling that he might miss Apartment 2B, just a little.

Two hours later they were all fed, Harry's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into Aunt Petunia's shabby, years-old car, Harry and Dudley were squeezed together in the backseat, and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at a quarter after ten.

"Come on you two." Aunt Petunia beckoned them, lifting Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeling it towards the station. Harry and Dudley followed closely behind her. Petunia walked with purpose, as though she knew where she was going. She strode up to the dividing pillar between Platforms 9 and 10, and then stopped to look over her shoulder, lean down to their eye-level and whisper;

'Watch me very carefully."

Then she stood, and, pushing Harry's luggage in front of her, walked directly though the solid brick pillar!

Harry and Dudley gaped at one another for a moment. Aunt Petunia had just melted into a wall! Then, remembering his aunt's words, Harry braced himself and charged towards the wall. Instead of hitting brick, Harry ran into something quite soft that smelled vaguely familiar.

Aunt Petunia chuckled as she reached down to embrace Harry just as Dudley came bursting though the wall.

"See? That wasn't so bad was it?" she asked.

Harry didn't—more couldn't—answer her. He simply gaped at the scene in front of him. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with hundreds of strangely dressed people. A sign overhead said _Hogwarts Express_, eleven O'clock. Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it.

They had made it.

"Alright dear." Aunt Petunia leaned down to his level, her blue eyes meeting his green, "this is your stop. I'll take care of your bags darling, you get on the train."

Dudley sniffled.

Harry reached up and caught his aunt around the neck, pulling her down into a tight embrace.

"I love you Aunt Petunia, I'll miss you." He whispered, trying not to sound like he was going to cry.

"I love you too Harry." Aunt Petunia whispered, pulling Dudley into the hug so that all three of them were huddled together on the platform for a few moments.

"Alright." She said, pulling away, "Get on the train now."

"Bye Harry." Dudley whimpered, whipping his nose on his arm.

Trying to hold back his own tears, Harry made his way over to the train and clambered on. He spared one last look behind him at his aunt and cousin, before turning his back and stepping onto the Hogwarts Express.

The first few carriages were empty, (they had arrived at the station a bit early) so Harry sat himself down in the first compartment he came to. He amused himself with watching student after student trickle onto the train. Some of them would sit quietly in their seats, others would hang out of the windows to talk to their families, others fighting over seats.

He tried not to think about his little family, who had looked even smaller and more out of place when he had left them on the platform. Harry hoped that they had already gone, because he was fighting the sudden urge to jump off the train and run after them.

"Is this seat taken?"

Harry turned. A tall, dark boy with friendly eyes stood in the compartment doorway. Harry smiled

"No, it's not."

"Don't mind if I sit then." The boy said cheerfully, plopping down on the seat across from Harry, "My name's Dean Thomas, what's yours?"

"Harry Potter."

Dean nodded. "Cool."

Harry glanced out the window next to him. A family on the platform caught his attention. There seemed to be an awful lot of them. A mother and four boys, all with bright red hair. Two of the boys looked like carbon copies of one another-Harry guessed that they were twins. They were so loud he could hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest kid in the group rolled his eyes, but offered little resistance as his mother grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

The one called Ron rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"Don't pick on your baby brother George." The mother scolded, "Where's Percy, I wanted him to get Ron settled on the train."

"I don't need help getting on the train Mum." Ron said, "I'm not a baby."

"Here's Percy." Said one of the twins.

The oldest boy came striding back into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I can get Ron on the train and then I have to be up front. The prefects have got two compartments to themselves -"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, just as Ron exclaimed "I don't need help getting on the train!"

"Hush Ronnie, mind your bother." said their mother fondly, kissing Ron on the cheek. "All right, dear, well, have a good term - send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he seized Ron by the elbow, practically dragging him onto the train.

"Go find yourself a seat Ron." Harry heard the eldest boy's voice in the train hallway, "I have to be up front."

"I can find a compartment Percy." An exasperated voice answered him.

The train began to move. Harry looked out the window again saw the boys' mother waving, slowly growing smaller and smaller in as the train left Platform 9 and ¾ behind.

Seconds later, the door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in dragging a suitcase.

"Hello." He said cheerily, "Any seats open in here?"

Dean smiled and nodded to the seat across from Harry.  
>"Have a seat mate.<p>

"Thanks." Ron said, shoving his trunk into the luggage rack above them and sitting down with a contented sigh.

"So what are your names?" Ron asked, looking at both Dean and Harry, "My name's Ron Weasely."

"I'm Dean Thomas." Said Dean.

"And I'm Harry Potter."

Ron gaped at Harry.

"Did you just say you were Harry Potter."

Harry was taken aback.

"Yes. I am Harry Potter."

Dean looked from Harry to Ron, bewildered.

"Do, do you have the…." Ron pointed to his own forehead.

Harry nodded and pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar.

"Wow. Bloody hell." Said Ron, staring at the scar with wonder, and what looked like fear.

"What's going on?" asked Dean.

Ron turned to him, "You don't know who this is mate?"

Dean shook his head, glancing at Harry who shrugged.

"This is Harry Potter. He defeated one of the darkest wizards of all time when he was a baby."

"You did?" Dean turned to stare at Harry as well.

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it. I was only about two when it happened. He killed my parents that same night."

"Oh." Said Dean, furrowing his brow, "I'm sorry."

Harry waved him off, "It's fine. My mum's sister raised me. I don't even remember my parents. You can't feel sad about something you don't even remember right?"

"I guess not." Said Dean.

"How did you not know about Harry Potter?" Ron asked, turning to look at Dean.  
>"I didn't even know I was a wizard until a few months ago." Said Dean, "I don't know anything about this world."<p>

Harry smiled at Dean, "Don't worry, I don't know that much either."

Ron turned to look at him in shock, "You don't?"

Harry shook his head, "Nope. Just what my aunt told me, but she's not a witch."

"Your aunt's a muggle…oh…non-magic person?" Ron asked.

"Yep."

'Wow." Said Ron, leaning back in his seat.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron seemed to find him.

"Yes." Ron nodded.

"So you must know loads of magic already."

"Not really." said Ron. "You're not allowed to do magic outside of school. My mum's really strict about it, she has to be, with the six of us running around."

"You have five siblings?" asked Dean.

Ron nodded, "I'm the youngest in my family. Mum really wanted a girl, but after the sixth boy, she and Dad figured the fates had spoken. I guess you could say that I've got a lot to live up to. My oldest brother Bill was head boy and the second, Charlie, was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect (as you can see). Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny."

"It's better than sisters." Dean said, "Try growing up in a family where every Saturday is dedicated to dance lessons."

"That's rough mate." Said Ron, "I'm glad I don't have any sisters. Ouch."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was awake and eyeing him crankily.

"No scratching Scabbers." Ron said, and then glanced up at Harry and Dean, "This is my rat Scabbers. He's useless, he hardly ever wakes up." Ron smiled down at the rat, "He used to be Percy's, but I begged him to let me have him. Tradition you know?"

Harry and Dean nodded.

"Anything from the trolly dears?" a kindly looking old woman pushing a huge cart filled with pastries and candy had stopped outside their door.

The boys pooled their money and bought as many sweets and they could. They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans and sharing Chocolate Frog cards. Harry got Albus Dumbledore's card, who his Aunt Petunia had mentioned in passing from time to time. The pictures moved just like his parent's wedding picture. The man on the card looked friendly and winked at Harry as Harry examined the man's biography. Harry winked back.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

Suddenly, their compartment door slid open. Three boys entered, two were large and hulking, with thick necks and beady, dumb eyes. The boy in the middle was pale, with blonde hair and a narrow face.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry, not taking his eyes off of the large boys on either side of the pale boy.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron scoffed. Draco Malfoy looked at him, his blue eyes narrow.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Draco turned to look at Dean, "And I don't recognize you."

"Dean Thomas." Said Dean coolly.

"Muggle-born." Draco said dismissively. He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and mud-bloods, it'll rub off on you."

With that, Draco turned on his heel, and he and his cronies were gone.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly, sitting back down in the seat he had risen from. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

"You-Know-Who?" Dean asked.

"That's what people call the guy that Harry defeated." Ron said, "People still don't like saying his name."

"His name was Voldemort." Harry said quietly.

Ron gasped, but Harry said nothing. Draco's words had bothered him more than he had let on. How dare that boy say anything about Harry's parents! Harry's parents had been good people, and they had died because they loved Harry, and Harry was not about to let some bully degrade their memory in any way. Harry resolved that he did not like Draco Malfoy and would not let him say anything like that again.

It was getting dark, Harry noticed as he gazed out the window. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky and the train had begun to slow down.

The boys decided to change into their Hogwarts robes just as a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The train slowed right down and stopped a few minutes later. Dean, Harry and Ron along with what seemed like hundreds of other students pushed their way toward the train doors and out on to a tiny, dark platform.

Harry couldn't help but be a little nervous. Aunt Petunia had never been able to tell him much about Hogwarts. He hoped that whatever happened next didn't involve him demonstrating any magic.

A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a loud, booming voice. The largest man he had ever seen came into view. He was at least eight feet tall with a thick, black beard and a huge lantern.

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

First years (the smallest and most terrified looking students) began to congregate around the large man. They followed him down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. Nobody spoke much, and Harry tried to stick as close to Dean and Ron as possible.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the large man called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!" and Harry gasped at the sight before him.

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Hogwarts.

"No more'n four to a boat!" the man called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Dean and Ron got into a boat with another boy, who introduced himself as Seamus Finnegan.

"Everyone in?" shouted the large man, who took up a boat by himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

The boats began to move across the lake on their own. They were guided under the cliff where the castle was perched and seemed to enter a underground harbor. They got out of the boats and followed their large guide up a flight of stone steps to a huge, oak front door.

Harry shivered. Finally, he was going to enter Hogwarts.


	3. An Alternate Sorting

The tall man reached up and rapped three times on the large oak door. The door swung open at once, as if it had been waiting for his knock. In the doorway, a tall, rail-thin woman in emerald-green robes and a tall black hat stood. Her expression was stern, and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the large man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She opened the door wider, so that the students could get through. Harry, Ron, Dean and Seamus pushed through with the crowd of their fellow first years. Harry tried to stick close to the other boys. The entrance hall looked just like the ones in the story books that Aunt Petunia used to read to him and Dudley. The dark walls seemed to shimmer in the torch light, and Harry couldn't even see the ceiling.

"Wow." He whispered.

"Come on Harry." Ron shoved him, and Harry reluctantly stopped gazing at his surroundings and followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor.

As they neared another set of large oak doors, Harry started to hear the tell-tale drone of hundreds of voices.

"The rest of the school must already been eating." Dean whispered.

"Unfair!" Ron exclaimed. "We're the ones that have to take the test-shouldn't we eat first?"

"Test?" Harry asked, suddenly alarmed. His stomach dropped-they were going to have to prove that they were magical enough to go to school!

"Yeah," Ron said, "Fred and George said that every first year is tested before they put them in a house."

"What kind of test?" Seamus spoke for the first time since they entered the castle. Harry was a little comforted to see that Seamus looked just as nervous as he felt.

"I dunno." Ron said, shrugging, "They wouldn't tell me. But they said it was really hard-Bill barley passed it."

Seamus gulped.

Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school." She said, "I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you," she continued. "Please wait quietly."

"Sorting?" Harry whispered as Professor McGonagall swept out, shutting the door behind her.

"Yeah." Ron said, "They're going to use the test to divide us up into Houses. There's four of them. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test in front of the _whole school_? He hadn't expected that the test would happen in front of everyone, the moment he arrived at school. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. He kept his eyes fixed on the door.

"Which one do you want to be in?" Dean asked Ron.

"My whole family's been in Gryffindor." Ron said. Harry noticed that he suddenly looked very pale, "I mean everyone. I don't know what they'll do with me if I go anywhere else."

Harry noticed Draco Malfoy standing across the room, talking quietly to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Which house do you think they'll be in?" he asked Ron, nodding towards the sullen looking group.

"Slytherin." It was not Ron, but Seamus who spoke. "My mum said anyone who's ever been bad's been in Slytherin. That was You-Know-Who's house and everything."

Ron nodded. "My dad's said the same."

Harry's stomach plunged, Voldemort had been to Hogwarts? No one had told him that.

Professor McGonagall returned, pulling open the door with a flourish and peering down at the clustered first years.

"Alright everyone, form a line and follow me."

Harry felt as though his legs had turned to jello. It took all of the strength in his body to step into the now forming line and walk out of the back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Even in his petrified state, Harry had to admit that the Great Hall was a marvelous sight. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

He heard a girl whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." from somewhere behind him.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up the center of the Great Hall and silently placed a four-legged stool before them. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

Harry had no idea what to make of her strange behavior. Was this the test? He glanced at Ron who looked back at him blankly. Dean and Seamus seemed equally confused. Harry noticed suddenly that everyone else in the Great Hall-teachers and students alike-were now staring at the hat. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide, almost like a mouth - and the hat began to _sing_.

Harry was so shocked he could do nothing but gape at the hat for a few moments. A hat! Singing!

"Is this part of the test?" he whispered to Ron.

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;_

"Dunno." Ron whispered back.

"Will you two be quiet?" a rather bossy sounding girl whispered from behind them, "I want to hear what it's singing."

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

"Well we're trying to talk." Ron hissed back, glancing over his shoulder. Harry didn't turn, he didn't want to draw too much attention, he was sure they were not supposed to be talking during the song.

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The Great Hall exploded into applause when the hat was finished. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred; he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A flushed looking girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head, which fell right down over her eyes. There was a small pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table directly to their right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry" and "Brocklehurst, Mandy" both went to the Ravenclaw table, which was on their left. Harry thought that the people sitting at the Ravenclaw table looked like very odd birds indeed.

"Brown, Lavender" Professor McGonagall called.

A very pretty blonde girl ascended the podium and sat on the stool. Harry noticed that she was trembling slightly, but seemed to be trying very hard not to look afraid.

The hat barely paused for a second.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling as Lavender Brown hurried to sit with her new classmates.

As the sorting went on Harry noticed that the hat sometimes shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. Seamus was sorted into Gryffindor after a pause, but for some students the hat couldn't seem to make up its mind.

"Granger, Hermione!"

A girl with fizzy brown hair and large front teeth practically sprinted to the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat over her head. The hat was quiet for quite a while before finally shouting;

"RAVENCLAW!"

A horrible thought struck Harry as he watched the frizzy haired girl run to sit at her table. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

He watched a chubby, terrified looking boy make his way up to the stool. The hat took a full three minutes to decide. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," the boy ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Draco Malfoy did not seem nervous at all when his name was called, much to Harry's disappointment. Seamus' prediction came true. The hat had barely touched his blonde head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Finally, after a few more names- "Potter, Harry!"

"Good luck mate." Ron whispered, and Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

Harry stepped forward, suddenly noticing that whispers had broken out like little hissing fires all over the hall. The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. Harry jumped. "You're a difficult one. More difficult than expected. There's talent, intelligence, courage, and a need to protect those close to you. So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, _Not Slytherin_, _not Slytherin_. As hard as he could.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice continued. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that - no? Well, if you're sure - better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. Percy, Ron's oldest brother, got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite what appeared to be a ghost dressed in 14th century attire. Trying not to appear rude, Harry smiled and nodded at the man. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now. The large man named Hagrid smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back. The man seemed very kind. Next to Hagrid sat a very nervous looking young man in a purple turban. He seemed not to want to make eye contact with anyone, so Harry stopped looking at him—he didn't want to scare any teacher. And then, Harry saw him. There, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts.

"Thomas, Dean,"

Harry's attention snapped back to the sorting. Dean walked up to the stool with as much confidence as anyone, and sat down. The hat didn't even pause.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry cheered with the rest of his new house as a beaming Dean came to join him at the Gryffindor table.

"Look at that Harry-we're in the same house." Dean whispered as he sat down next to Harry and across from Seamus.

Harry nodded and beamed back. He was glad that Dean and Seamus were in the same house as he was-now if only Ron would be sorted into Gryffindor.

As though reading his thoughts Professor McGonagall called out;

"Weasely, Ronald!"

A green looking Ron stumbled forward. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Dean, Seamus, and Harry all applauded a very red-faced Ron as he joined them at the table.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy.

Ron rolled his eyes as his brother shook his hand very formally.

One more student was sorted, becoming a Slytherin, and then the Sorting was finished. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

"What happens now?" Dean whispered. Percy Weasely shushed him.

Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

With that, he sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. Fortunately he didn't have to decide because suddenly the empty dishes in front of him had become laden with food.

Puddings, sausages, roasts and potatoes were suddenly piled high. It was more food than Harry had ever seen in his life. Aunt Petunia had always struggled to make ends meet and had kept her little family on a very tight budget. Harry had never been allowed to eat as much as he'd like, not that he had minded. But now, Harry filled his plate with a little of everything and began to eat like he had never eaten before.

"Did you hear about what happened at Gringotts?" Seamus was asking Ron. Ron nodded gravely while shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"What's Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"It's a wizarding bank." Percy Weasely said, "It's where you would have exchanged muggle money for wizarding money."

Ahh, Gringotts, that did ring a bell. Aunt Petunia had gone there to get money to buy Harry's school things. According to her, his parents had left him 'quite a lot' of wizarding money, whatever that meant.

"What happened at Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"It's been all over the Daily Prophet," said Seamus, "Someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My mum says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it." Seamus nodded importantly.

Ron looked worried, "That's bad. Gringotts is supposed to be impossible to break into."

Seamus chuckled, "Yeah, supposed to be."

Harry frowned as he looked back at his partially cleared plate. You-Know-Who, Voldemort. He suddenly wished that he didn't know what those words meant.

Harry glanced back up at the staff table, making eye contact with a hooked nose man with dark, greasy hair that was sitting next to the nervous man in the turban. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Dean.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look - a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

"Who are those teachers?" Harry asked Percy.

"The one on the right-the one with the turban-that's Professor Quirrell. He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He's young-he graduated when I was in the third year, but he knows his stuff. They say that he had a bad run in with some mummies or something-that's why he's so twitchy. The one next to him-that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he's always wanted Defense." Percy paused then added, "Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Before Harry could ask Percy any questions-say why a teacher would glare at him like Snape had-Dumbledore stood once more and the remnants of the food disappeared from the plates.

"Ahern - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins, who were snickering rather conspicuously.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year; the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry and Dean laughed, but they were one of the few who did.

"What does that mean Percy?" Ron asked.

"It means the third floor is off limits." Percy said, frowning at Dumbledore. "Dumbledore never says anything without a good reason."

"And now," Dumbledore said, "Bedtime. Off you trot!"

Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus, and the rest of the Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase.

Harry was very tired, but not too tired to appreciate the sheer wonder of the castle around them. The portraits whispered to one another as they passed, ghosts floated through the walls and the floor. Every once in a while, Harry could have sworn he saw one of the suits of armor that lined the halls move. He was so enchanted by the castle, that he barely noticed that they had stopped until he almost collided with Dean.

They were stood in at the end of a corridor. In front of them hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she asked. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall.

They all hopped through it one by one to find themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. Harry, Dean, Seamus, Ron and several other first year boys climbed to the top of the tower to find three dorms, each marked with a list of names. The boys were released to find that they had all been placed together in one dorm, along with the chubby boy named Neville Longbottom. They said goodnight to their fellow first years and pushed open their door to find their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Fidelius was already curled up on Harry's pillow, purring contently.

Exhausted, the five changed into their pajamas and climbed into bed. His dorm mates fell asleep almost instantly, but Harry's night was not restful. He slept fitfully, dreaming of turbans, Potion teachers, and flashes of green light.


	4. An Unusual Discovery

The next morning, Harry woke to Fidelius wrapping him sharply on the nose with one velvety paw. He rolled out of bed and put on his glasses, glancing out the dormitory window as he did. The castle grounds seemed to go on forever. Beyond the dark lake which they had traveled over yesterday, Harry could see a fringe of trees.

"That must be the Forbidden Forrest." Harry said to his cat, pulling on his school robes, "Wonder what's so forbidden about it."

'There's a load of dark creatures in there."

Harry turned and saw that Ron was just waking up.

"Dark creatures? What do you mean?"

"Like werewolves and banshees and stuff." Ron said, rolling out of bed, "Fred and George try to get in there all the time."

'Why?" Harry asked, wondering why anyone in their right mind would willingly go to a place that was filled with werewolves and banshees (which even Harry knew were not pleasant creatures).

Ron scoffed as he pulled on his school robes, "Because their Fred and George, they don't need a reason. They just do things."

At breakfast, Ron, Harry, Dean and Seamus compared schedules.

"Looks like we're all together." Dean said cheerily, clapping Seamus and Harry on the back.

"Good." Ron sighed, tucking into his breakfast. "At least the schedule is straight forward enough."

Unfortunately, their schedules turned out to be the only straight-forward thing about their first week at Hogwarts.

First and foremost was the problem of the mass amount of attention that seemed to follow Harry everywhere he went that day. People would whisper loudly whenever he passed by, just loud enough for him to know that they were talking about him, but not loud enough so he could hear what they were talking about. People would double back to pass him in the corridors again, asked him for his autograph, or just stared. Harry found himself wishing that he were invisible. At least then he wouldn't hold his friends up and they could find their way to classes, which was turning out to be harder than any of them expected.

There seemed to be hundreds of staircases in Hogwarts, and none of them ever stayed in the same place. The doors were another matter entirely- there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending.

The ghosts and portraits were very willing to help lost students. Dean, Seamus, Ron and Harry had all been directed to their classes by at least one friendly spirit that first week. The same could not be said for the caretaker, Argus Filch. Filch was a small, withered, mean looking man who seemed to wander the halls of Hogwarts with the sole purpose of catching students in wrongdoing when they least expected him to appear. He had help in his mission. Mrs. Norris was his cat. She was a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear moments later, ready to punish the troublemakers.

By Friday, they were exhausted. They had tried Charms, attempted Transfiguration, and gotten bitten in Herbology. Their first flying lesson wasn't scheduled until Saturday morning, and History of Magic was a bore. Defense Against the Dark Arts was interesting, but Harry got the impression that Professor Quirrell was not being terribly honest about where he got his large purple turban. He told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but when Seamus asked to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather. The Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that he was protected from vampires wherever he went. Harry actually thought that was rather smart-vampires did not sound very pleasant.

Friday morning dawned bright and early. Dean beat everyone down to breakfast and Seamus had to be dragged from his bed.

"What class do we have today?" Harry asked Dean. Ron looked up from his toast and Seamus even made a movement that seemed to indicate some interest in the topic, though he didn't lift his head from the table.

"Um, looks like we have double Potions with the Slytherins," said Dean, frowning down at his schedule.

"Isn't Professor Snape the Head of Slytherin House?" Harry asked, trying to suppress a nervous squirm. Professor Snape was the man who had glared at him during the Opening Feast.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Fred and George say that he favors the Slytherins over everyone, here's hoping it isn't true."

But they soon discovered that it was. Professor Snape was a tall, imposing man with dark eyes that seemed to suck all the warmth from a room. Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry – Snape hated him.

Harry knew the moment he walked into class and sat down between Dean and Ron. Snape began his class like many of the teachers had. Unlike most though, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Ron shot them a dirty look. Harry kept his eyes on Snape until the older man looked away.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," Snape began, turning away from Harry's table and striding to the front of the class. He didn't raise his voice, but everyone seemed to be paying attention. They, like Harry, seemed to know that Professor Snape was not one to cross. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows and Harry heard Seamus audibly gulp.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly and Harry jumped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry glanced around at his classmates and noticed that most of his classmates seemed as befuddled as he was.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. Dean was now staring at Snape, his eyes narrowed, and Seamus was flipping frantically through their textbook, as though afraid that Snape would call on him next.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know," said Harry quietly.

No one looked nervous now. It was very clear that Snape was picking on Harry, for reasons no one understood. Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Dean looked furious.

Snape opened his mouth once more, but before he could speak, someone else spoke up.

"He said he didn't know." Said Dean. "None of us do."

Snape glared at Dean before glancing back at Harry.

"That is perfectly obvious. A point will be taken from Gryffindor for your cheek. "

Dean became very red faced and Snape turned back to the class. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. They were paired off. Ron and Harry were together. Seamus was partnered with Neville Longbottom, the rather clumsy boy that Harry, Dean, Ron and Seamus shared a dorm room with. Dean was paired with the pretty blonde girl named Lavender Brown. The entire lesson Snape seemed to hover at their end of the classroom, glaring at each of their potions in turn, criticizing the potions heavily.

Things only got worse when managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Seamus nodded and hurried to comply, nimbly avoiding the spilled potion as he yanked Neville out of the classroom.

He rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville and Seamus.

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Dean's partner, Lavender, kicked him behind her cauldron.

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week - why did Snape hate him so much? "Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George."

"I wouldn't let it worry you Harry." Said Dean, who had caught up to them, 'I just hope Neville's alright."

Dean's pretty potions partner, Lavender Brown, caught up with their little group halfway up the stairs.

'Hey, you forgot your quill." She said, handing a worn quill to Ron, "I loose mine all the time, I hate when I forget them." She smiled at Ron and Ron's ears were suddenly very red.

"Thanks." He stammered, tucking the quill into his bag.

Lavender giggled. "See you around." She waved to the group, said bye to Dean and hurried up the stairs to catch up with one of her friends.

"She's nice." Dean said, as they followed her up the stairs towards the Great Hall, "but she talks a lot."

The boys made their way to the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lunch. Neither Seamus nor Neville seemed to be making an appearance.

"Maybe we should take them some food." Harry suggested, biting into his ham sandwich.

"Nah," Ron shook his head, "They have food up there. We'd probably only be in the way."

"Probably." Harry agreed.

At that moment, Fidelius decided to make an appearance.

Since arriving at Hogwarts, Harry had allowed his cat to roam freely, which seemed to be the general rule when it came to pet cats at Hogwarts.

Fidelius had taken to wandering about the school grounds, making appearances at bed time and at least one meal a day. Today, he had chosen lunch. Fidelius hopped up on the table, ignoring Harry's admonishing cry, and attempting to snag a bite of Harry's sandwich. In the attempt, his tail dislodged Dean's book bag, which fell to the ground and promptly exploded.

"I'm sorry Dean!" Harry sighed.

"It's not a problem." Dean said, waving him off. But Harry bent down and started to pick up the contents of the bag anyway.

Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under one of Dean's books. It was a copy of the Daily Prophet. The headline jumped out at him:

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

"That was my birthday." Harry said quietly.

"What?" Ron asked, still very absorbed with his lunch.

"The Gringotts break-in, it happened on my birthday." Harry repeated, "That was the day my aunt went to buy my school things-I wonder if she saw anything."

"I doubt it." Ron said.

"Yeah, I'm sure she'd have mentioned if something odd had happened." Harry said.

"She might not have noticed anything unusual, even if she did see something." Ron frowned, "Didn't you say she was a muggle?"  
>"Yeah," Harry said, "But she's smart. She would know."<p>

"Why are you reading about that anyway?" Ron asked, popping the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth.

"It just caught my eye." Harry said. He stuffed the last bit of parchment back into Dean's bag and handed it over to his friend.

"Do you guys want to go up to the hospital wing?" Dean asked.

Both boys readily agreed. Harry scooped up his cat and followed Ron and Dean, the _Prophet_ lay abandoned on the table.


End file.
